


oh my god, he's in quarantine

by prettyshiroic (dinosuns)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comedy, Comfort, Gen, Illnesses, Matt's POV, Misunderstandings, Post Season 4, Sick Character, bad humour, mark hamill voice: this is not going to go the way you think, matt is the greatest troll, the best nerd squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: Whilst with the blade of Marmora, Keith gets sick and is put in quarantine. It's not at all what Matt expects.-Call him beep him if you wanna reach him. Apparently, Keith Possible is officially a go.





	1. oh my god, he's in quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you feel better alice <3

When Kolivan calls the rebels, something is very wrong. And the worst part is, for the life of him Matt can’t determine the source of it. Nothing about this is unusual. Communication between them has ever increased since the growth of the coalition. But still. Something isn’t quite right about this call from the moment it begins. As the rebels greet him, Kolivan nods in response and folds his hands behind his back. Strange. Matt could’ve sworn he was fidgeting. Another clue, perhaps. 

“We’ve received some information you might find to be of interest. Whilst the coalition are focused on Lotor's intentions, we have discovered another ship transporting rare deposits quintessence across the galaxy.” 

Olia adjusts her goggles. Evidently, she’s noticed the anomaly in this discussion too. Still, she chews the information over.

“So whilst we’re focused on Lotor, the empire make a move?”

“It’s unclear.” The screen zooms out a little, and it’s only then with more space that Matt realises. Kolivan is alone. “Though it should be taken into consideration that it could be a trap.”

“Affirmative,” Olia agrees. “We could monitor the ship for now.”

Matt stares at the empty space beside Kolivan, the space that is never empty. Keith isn’t there.

“That would be best.” Kolivan sounds more curt than Matt’s ever heard him. It’s unnerving paired with the absence of Keith.

 _Why_ isn’t Keith there?

Olia is unfazed, managing to keep the conversation afloat. “Consider it done, Kolivan.”

“Though In any case, we should remain vigilant on all fronts. Naxcela could be just one of many greater weapons the empire have planted throughout the galaxy.”

It doesn’t sound like this is going anywhere besides forewarnings, and the meandering caution has Matt’s interest piqued for different reasons.

“Hey Kolivan… where’s Keith?” he finally asks because it’s started to hang uncomfortably in the air. Olia catches Matt’s eye and gives a subtle nod. All of them have been wondering then, only nobody felt they could voice it.

From the outset, Kolivan has made sure to keep Keith close. In missions, in meetings, in conversations. That’s not out of disrespect to Keith’s independence or something overprotective, though. At first Matt had likened it to a guardian watching dutifully over their nephew, the way Aunt Pamela used to clasp his and Katie’s hands tighter when passing through a crowd. But it’s not like that, exactly. It’s different.

There’s a nurturing aspect to it, as if Kolivan is trying to coax Keith out of the quiet unforgiving corner he has so adamantly shoved himself into, cultivate the confidence in not just his skills but his very being. Because whilst Keith will contribute and do whatever necessary for the mission, he parcels away the most intricate and private pieces of himself.

It's as if he thinks those things will splinter in the presence of others, quicker and faster than his ship would have against that shield.

Kolivan bristles at the question, head lowering a fraction. But it’s enough to reveal more than he probably is bargaining for. It explains his brusque demeanour, paints it with a brush Matt is all too familiar with. Kolivan is worried. That has something twisting in Matt’s gut, pushing him to ask again. Last time he had this feeling, Keith had given him ambiguous words set against jarringly devastating intentions. Keith had flown towards the shield. 

_“Where’s Keith?”_

His voice betrays him, the urgency is cause for the rebels loading up supplies behind him to abruptly stop, look and listen.

“Keith is currently unavailable,” Kolivan delivers this news so eloquently Matt thinks he could make the most iconic voicemail the universe has ever heard. _Please leave your message after the tone and the blade of Marmora will get back to you in due course._ “He has fallen prey to an illness of unknown calibre. Given his unique genetics and the depletion of our forces, he is in quarantine.”

Olia stirs in her seat, eyes wide.

“He’s in _quarantine?”_

“He’s in quarantine,” Kolivan confirms.

“Oh my god, he’s in quarantine,” Matt repeats.

If they’re going for the whole dramatic suspense thing they might as well go the whole way. Everyone here is stewing with tension that has enough force to grate bones and snap spines. It’s clear that everyone is concerned about Keith. A little bit of bathos is more of an outlet for himself, if anything. All attention turns to him on cue. He’s met with bemused expressions and an army of raised eyebrows. Of course. Nobody gets the reference.

He’s surrounded by aliens, there’s no other reaction to expect.

With a hard blink that denotes mild exasperation, Kolivan continues.

“There is no cause for alarm, he is stable and conscious.”

“ _Whew,_ Keith must really love that." Keith being forced to stay in one place without his sword or a task to complete is really a recipe for disaster.

“In actuality, he is quite disgruntled about the situation.”

Right. Matt takes a moment, chasing a ragged breath shaped by private amusement he shouldn’t give into. But sometimes this war casts a shadow so big and dark across the universe that it’s easy to forget things can still be completely ridiculous. And sometimes, that’s exactly what people need reminding of in order to endure and survive. The little things. Evidently, sarcasm is a finely crafted art. Perhaps more of a human thing. _Human._ Matt leans forwards, pressing a hand against the console with enthusiasm. 

“I’m human. Keith’s human too." Amongst also kind of being an alien. "It couldn’t hurt for me to come take a look at him, right?”

“You are a medic?” Kolivan asks in such open surprise it’s more than just mildly offensive. Somewhere his five year old self’s dream to be a doctor is crushed by the bruising honesty. In a Star Trek alternate universe, Matt likes to think he could be a pretty decent Bones- that's second to Scotty, however.

“No, no. I’m better.” Matt reaches for glasses he no longer has. Damn Katie for stealing away his opportune moment, but also bless her for levelling up to become the most powerful of the Holt siblings. Revered paladin of the green lion, badass genius techwizard of Voltron. It's so awesome.

Patience waning, Kolivan prompts. "What are you, then?" 

“Me?" Matt grins. "I’m a nerd.”

\--

It becomes clear very quickly that Galra Quarantine is no joke and extremely thorough. In this, Kolivan has most definitely outdone himself with caution. Matt trails after Kolivan through three different doorways, hoping its over. But it isn’t. Two more doorways and a decontamination chamber later, they reach Keith’s room with a wall of glass between them.

Kolivan was right, Keith looks pretty unhappy about the situation. He’s pacing back and forth, a trait uncharacteristic to him. At the sound of the door closing behind Kolivan, Keith’s attention is summoned. Catching sight of Matt, he gapes.

“Matt,” he sounds relieved through sniffles. Walking to the glass, Keith presses a palm against it. Matt thinks it’s probably in bad taste to reciprocate. This isn't Tarzan and without Phil Collins the atmosphere is lost.

“Hey, Keith. I thought I’d stop by, Kolivan said you’re sick.”

Frustration is carved into Keith's face, mottled with a wild flush that is most prominent on his nose. His eyelids are puffy and swollen, eyes bloodshot. Okay, so he’s definitely sick. But somehow, it’s the most animated and _alive_ Matt has ever seen him outside the battlefield.

“I'm not. It's - _Matt_ ,” Keith tries again with intensity his strained voice cannot maintain without jumping between octaves. “Can you please tell them I- I’m fine and that this whole thing is just ridiculous and-”

Keith pauses. A small sound has his shoulders locking and eyes closing. It takes Matt a second to realise that was a sneeze. Oh. Keith’s sneezing. Groaning, Keith blinks open an eye only to sneeze again. So quiet and contained. It would be adorable if Keith wasn’t so prone to doing this with most other parts of himself - deliberate suppression. Be it embarrassment or deep-set fear, or maybe a messy concoction of both, Matt doesn’t know.

He hasn’t known Keith for long, but he likes to think he _knows_ Keith considerably well in spite of that. He pays attention, he watches. 

Keith sneezes once more, palm closing into a fist that thumps the glass. “ _Argh…”_

“Keith, are you alright?” Kolivan steps forwards with urgency as if a gaping wound has been sliced open fresh. And yep, Matt wants to christen this moment as the most absurdly touching thing he's ever witnessed.

It’s a cold.

Keith is in quarantine, because he has a cold.

“I’m _fine,_ I- _”_ Keith abruptly stops, choking on what has to be phlegm. Yeah. That’s pretty gross and unpleasant. Undeterred by his body’s protests, Keith sniffs hard as if that will solve everything. His puffy eyes dart between Kolivan and Matt, a fraction more sluggish than usual. “Like I said, m’fine.”

He is fine, which is a relief. It’s just a cold and he will live.  

But also, Keith isn’t okay.

His face is smeared with exhaustion. From the deep purple-tinged craters beneath his eyes to the thick hardened tails of comets carved into his forehead. His eyebrows are pressed down by a weight that is crushing. It’s there. Unmistakable. His jawline is sharp, but his cheekbones jut out a little more than they ought to. They seem hollow against skin that’s become a little sunken in. His lips are cracked, dry and sore. Then there’s the rough edges of his collarbones, the weathered curve of his shoulders. His calloused fingers, his body a canvas for the bruises and snicks to fill. 

Keith is working his body to the brink of its limits, pushing himself further and harder without respite and without remorse. Even now he’s swaying a little, barely capable of standing yet refusing to yield. Without a doubt, Keith is strong. The way he continuously refuses to quit or give up on this cause is admirable. Truly astounding. He trains hard and makes an effort to keep impressive form, but recuperation and rest is not a priority. Even in the time between missions and regrouping forces, Matt suspects Keith uses the blade’s training facilities as much as Pidge claimed he hogged the training deck. Improvements are welcomed, but self-growth is not part of it.

To put it bleakly, from what Matt has come to learn about seeing Keith in action: the paladins believe in Voltron, but Keith embodies the honour of a soldier so explicitly it’s almost ascetic to himself as a person.

More, Keith is tired.

He is so very tired in a way that makes Matt tired just to _think about._ To witness it has something tightening in his chest. Mind, body and soul. The whole shebang. Keith is tired. Matt can see it clearer than ever before. If anything, the cold has merely highlighted all of this. It’s a grim reminder that Keith fights for the universe with such incredible vigour. But he’s against himself in the most understated yet destructive of ways.

He’d push himself to the death and right over that ledge if it came to it.

Kolivan must have caught the concern, because he’s giving Matt all his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Raking a hand through his hair, Matt sighs. _Oh Keith._

“I can’t say for sure.”

“ _What?!”_ Keith exclaims in a squeaky tone. Clearing his throat, he prods the glass with a finger. “Matt, please. You know there’s nothing wrong, I’m fine!”

Turning away from Keith, Matt addresses Kolivan.

“I’m going to have to consult with the Brainables. I’ll call Pidge now, and-”

“-The green paladin is also a… nerd?” Kolivan ventures.

Matt bites down on his lip. It’s so hard not to break composure. On the other side of the glass, Keith splutters. It’s an abrupt messy series of coughs born from the tickling of unrealised laughter. He’s laughing - well, trying to laugh. Just for a moment Keith is succumbing to the absurdity of the situation. That makes Matt’s response entirely worth giving.

“It runs in the family.”

He’s not monopolising Kolivan’s concern or making light of how moving it truly is, but for the sake of Keith’s alarming lack of self-preservation and things the pair of them desperately need to work out better communicating, Matt indulges himself. Without this undertone, it’s just too much to think about.

“Contact these Brainables _,_ and keep me informed. _”_ With one final glance to Keith, Kolivan leaves the room. Keith butts his head against the glass, slumping in defeat.

“Brainables...” he manages flatly, voice muffled by his hair. Even with the rasp increased tenfold, Keith still sounds unimpressed. “A bunch of geniuses come together and that’s what they decide to call themselves?” Glancing up, Keith huffs. Admittedly, this does sound like the beginning of a joke. “Brainables.”

Matt basks in what’s nestled between the insult. The words are without any real heat, and the praise tucked beneath is so incredibly sincere. Geniuses. Keith never hesitates to remind people of their virtues, even amongst moments of exploitable weakness. He seems entirely unaware of this raw knack he has for encouraging people through his blunt affirmations of their skills.

And in this moment, Keith has given Matt the ultimate chance for his best Terminator impression. Leaning towards the glass, Matt steels himself. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure. Just don’t hit me when you come crashing through the glass.”

It’s an absolute travesty that so few people have ever considered Keith’s sharp focus can become some so quick-witted. Because it can. And for a second Matt gawks whilst Keith’s lips settle on the humblest of smirks. He knows. Keith knows he’s caught Matt off-guard.

Taking his leave, Matt almost stumbles into door when the punchline to the other joke hits.

 _Three geniuses walk into a bar…_ _–OH._  

\--

“Guys, _guys._ You won’t believe this.” As Pidge and Hunk float on screen, Matt skips greetings. They can do that part later. This part is more important and far more interesting. “Keith has a cold and he’s in quarantine for it.”

Pidge jolts forwards. “He’s in _quarantine?”_

“He’s in quarantine,” Matt confirms.

“Oh my god, he’s in quarantine,” Hunk repeats without missing a beat. Finally, Matt can live because the reference has been appreciated and by none other than the wonderful engineer-extraordinaire.  

“What do you mean he’s in _quarantine?”_ Pidge asks, tapping away at her keypad on the desk. “Did you tell Kolivan it’s just a cold and nothing to worry about?”

If Matt were there he’d be nudging his little sister with his elbow.

“Ah-ah-ah... that’s a bit of a _wild assumption_ , Pidge, isn’t it?”

Alien immunology isn't a subject Matt has entertained much. But given the Galra empire and their impressive technology, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume the common cold is not a common issue. Now he’s thinking about it, Matt has yet to see a member of the rebel alliance suffer from a mild illness similar to ones experienced on earth. Pidge told him about Coran’s sense of the slipperies, so that is evidence enough that _Alteans_ at least have their own viruses. And if there’s a chance for that then…   

“At any rate,” Matt begins his explanation. “In all the bodies of the Martians that were examined after the war, no bacteria except those already known as terrestrial species were found.”

Pidge narrows her eyes and resumes typing. Her interest is no longer held. Beside her, Hunk glances between them in immense confusion.

“That’s nothing more than a fictional _hypothesis_ and you know it, Matt _.”_

Pressing a hand to his chest, spurred on rather than deterred, Matt continues. Even the greatest voices in the history of mankind were met with scrutiny and their theories were rebuffed. He’s going to have this moment whilst it’s here.

“I think what we’re looking at here is an advanced race in which _ignorance of the putrefactive process_ could be their undoing-”

“-But as probable as it seems,” Pidge begins in a slow drawl that is quick to cut through Matt’s recitation. She sounds like this is the last conversation in she wants to be having. But Matt is no stranger to detecting that gleam in her eyes. It’s the same gleam that lit up the room when their dad read that book to them _._ Or better, put on the musical rendition whilst doing the dishes. “ _It is by no means a proven conclusion_.”

Matt is unashamedly proud of Pidge _always,_ often boasting to his team about her achievements whenever he can. But now that pride swells into something warm and immeasurably fond. It’s nice to see her indulging the overdue rematch of a Holt Tradition: where quotes from science fiction canon are not only exchanged in rapid succession across the dinner table but deployed into a debate until one of them hestitates.

Last time, before Kerberos, Matt had won with _Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy._  

“Okay-” Pushing his thumbs together, Hunk probes with insistence. “Okay, so I don’t know if you guys noticed but I’m like sort of definitely out of the loop here. Can uh, can someone explain to me what’s going on here? Maybe? Please? It’s just I get the sense like this is some kind of extreme code and as Brainables I thought we were supposed to have an open policy of sharing funny science jokes with each other.”

“It’s not real science, Hunk,” Pidge says and Matt gasps dramatically. He grips his chest as if wounded. Maybe he is, to hear such blasphemy against a classic. “It’s just _War of the Worlds.” Just_ War of the Worlds, unbelievable. “Matt was suggesting that aliens coming into contact with earth bacteria could actually be deadly because-”

“-Oh, _oh_ okay. I get it.” Hunk hums before turning his attention to Matt through the screen. “So you think Keith should be in quarantine? For a cold? A little earth cold? Because what? The super advanced aliens in space might catch it and be unable to cope? Is that - is that what you think?”

The series of questions are relentless, as is Hunk’s evident disagreement and undercurrent of teasing. Pidge snickers.

“Yeah. You're right, Keith definitely doesn’t need to be in quarantine.”

He just desperately _needs to rest_. And Matt knows if Keith is left to his own devices that just won’t happen. This very incident is proof of that. If Hunk and Pidge knew the whole situation, they’d understand Matt’s reluctance to give the all-clear to Kolivan.

“So why didn’t you tell Kolivan that?” As ever, Pidge is quick in her calculations. “Matt. What’s _really_ going on?"

Well. This isn’t something Matt feels he can share. Despite the urge to go into detail about Keith’s attempted-sacrifice and near-death, talking to Keith first seems best. It’s the one step most people seem to keep jumping over consistently, or simply having no idea how to do. Which is kind of silly, all things considering.  

“I just told you - Keith has a cold and he’s in quarantine for it.” Matt gets snarky instead because it’s easier. “Are you even  _really_  listening, Pidgey?”

“I am listening! But if you’re not going to tell Kolivan the truth and just let Keith _sit in there_ and probably drive himself completely nuts, then I will.”

“Yeah, me too. Sorry man,” Hunk laments, looking a little uncomfortable as he shrugs helplessly. “But. They need Keith. He’s like a super ninja out there and with Lotor around it’s-”

“-He looks awful, Katie.”

That silences the two paladins. He’s timed it just right, shifting focus from Pidge to Katie. It heightens the severity.

“Man…” Scrubbing at his eyes with his palms, Hunk sighs. “I can’t believe I was just about to suggest throwing him back out there with the blades when you just said he had a cold. I mean… this is Keith. I didn’t ever think he _could_ get sick or - I always thought he was kind of… ” Trailing off, Hunk clutches the edges of his seat tightly. He’s not sure how to phrase it, which is indication enough the words aren't his best or kindest ones. “I guess I just didn’t think.”

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone really did.”

Pidge looks up from the keyboard, catching Matt’s eyes slowly. Her expression is conflicted, torn between remorse and hurt. Maybe it’s unfair to offer the prelude to this talk to just two people on the team, but Matt has to test the waters a little. And they both seem to get it, grasp what Matt is trying to allude to. This isn’t about the cold. This is about something else that requires all of their attention and efforts. This is about Keith believing his worth and value is tied to his role in this war, not him as a person people really do care about. Head snapping up with determination, Hunk blinks away the shame huddled into the corners of his eyes.

“Okay. Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna make soup, chop up some cool herbs, throw it all in, make it taste really good. And then - then you’re gonna give it to him.”

“You have to take care of him...” Pidge murmurs, unsure what more she can offer. Her eyes are back on the screen. Matt knows it’s a start in the right direction. Her fingers slap the keyboard faster and harder as if she could beat the irritation out of her body. But she’s not just irritated. Her teeth are clinking together in the telling way they do when she’s upset. “And then we’ll talk about it. Deal?”

Nodding, Matt smiles.  

“Deal.”

\--

Arriving back at the blade of Marmora, Matt resigns to end this farce for good. Keith is released from quarantine, and Kolivan’s posture is no longer so rigid. The relief is palpable, and it’s the same sensation Matt desperately latched onto when Keith’s voice sounded through the comms after the shield went down. Despite the cold being written off as life-threatening, Matt does his best to make clear that Keith will need a few days to fully rest. The way Kolivan purses his lips indicates he is all too aware of Matt’s unspoken concerns.

Keith practically charges towards the door as it opens.

“Finally. I _told_ you guys, it wasn’t-”

He’s cut off abruptly by a movement that stuns he and Matt completely. Of all things, Matt hadn’t anticipated such an earnest reunion. It’s not quite a hug, but the arm slung around Keith’s shoulders is something the sniffly blade slumps against. Keith’s bemused smile grows, before glancing over to Matt. Realisation hits and his cheeks flourish with a vibrant flush. He’s embarrassed. Matt finds it difficult to restrain himself from drawing Keith into a hug of his own just so he can have reassurance. It's okay. _Oh Keith, it's okay._ Matt wonders just how desperately Keith yearns to connect with people, how the routine of loneliness can fester so much of him.

Eyes widening, Kolivan pries his arm away. He’s suddenly unsure of everything. His fingers catch in Keith’s hair and linger there in a way nobody can prove before his hands hang by his sides once more. Only this time, they hang awkwardly. And then he’s gesturing to the door before anyone can say a word on the matter.

“I will check on your condition later. For now you should rest.”

Scowling at the concept, Keith shakes his head. Exactly as expected, and not according to plan. 

“No. Lotor is-”

“-I am not foolish enough to believe I can keep you from pursuing the mission. But your wellbeing is of equal importance. We are most fortunate that the Brainables concluded a case of the _raging_   _r_ _hinos_ is nothing to fret about.”

Keith shoots Matt a pointed look. In comparison, Matt is elated he could draw such a ridiculous sentence from the respected leader of the blades. _Raging rhinos._ As Kolivan walks away, Keith remains incredulous.

“It’s funny,” Matt supplies. It is. “You know, _rhinovirus_ which-”

“-Yeah, I know.” Nose twitching, Keith scrunches his face to avoid another sneeze. There’s a trace of a smile he cannot hide as much as he tries. Maybe he does secretly find it a little funny. “But if you have to explain the joke, then maybe it’s not- _ugh._ ”

The cold wins, breaking his words. Steering Keith towards his room, Matt waves a hand.

“Anyway, Keith. You heard Kolivan. No training. No missions. You’re going to _rest._ ” If his eyelids weren’t so swollen and heavy, Keith might just be blinking petulantly in morse code. With each suggestion he grunts in response, clearly against all of it. “Hunk even made you soup.”

That has Keith stopping in his tracks.

“Wait, really - Hunk.... did that?” _For me_ rings louder than the rest of that sentence. His expression softens to one of disbelief. The fact Keith is so unsure such kindness would be extended to him from his teammates is another indication to Matt that talks need to be had sooner rather than later. Enough glossing over things and adding elephants to the room. This isn't a zoo. 

“Sorry for taking so long to get you out of quarantine, by the way.” Matt is not sorry. It’s the most fun he’s had this week, by far. Keith raises an eyebrow, waiting for the excuse. “I needed to check we weren’t going to cause an epidemic in the blade of Marmora.”

Frowning, Keith stews it over. “But it’s just a cold.”

And that’s just a few words, yet Matt cannot tune them out. There’s too much in them. It’s too close to _but I’m just one person,_ the kind of perception Keith has subscribed to himself _._ Words build on Matt’s tongue, laced with unease. He swallows them. There’s a time and place, and this isn’t it. Right now, Keith needs to actually shake off this cold and rest. Besides, part of Matt senses Kolivan will address this entire topic far better than him. There are some serious Lion King vibes going on that should not be underestimated. Keith might just be living as the protagonist of an old, well-loved story. 

“You’ve seen Terminator.” That isn’t what Matt planned to say, but it’s a good shift in tone as any.

“ _The_ Terminator, _"_ Keith corrects. Amazing. "You’re still thinking about that?”

“I am. I really am. Cool movie references are wasted when nobody in space knows them, you know?”

“Ha. Yeah.” Keith counters with a shallow breathy laugh. His voice is a husky murmur now, in hopes not to irritate his sore throat further. It doesn’t work. Rubbing Keith’s back, Matt gives a gentle pat. This conversation is painfully disjointed, but Keith looks comfortable nonetheless. Well, as comfortable as he can be. The cold is definitely making him agitated and restless.

“Hey Keith, I’m just curious.” Matt does the best thing he can, provide a distraction. “How would you feel about becoming an honourary member of the Brainables?”


	2. oh my god, i'm in quarantine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some talks to be had. And Matt's attempts bring karma to the yard. 
> 
> He is such a fool to have not foreseen any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooohooo it's part twoooo!! i had requests for continuing and felt compelled to do so ;).
> 
> ps- the middle gets pretty deep i really didn't want to skip any of it, and if you feel tense reading then that's definitely the intention. but fear not, matt will guide us through.

When it’s over, when Keith is fully recovered from his cold, Matt has never been so glad to be back at the castle of lions. Walking into the Brainables’ main room for the greatest nerd-outs in history, he sinks into the sofa. Gosh. That is so nice. So much better than the seats the Galra seem to think are adequately comfortable.

Spoiler: they’re not. Unless the Marmora suits are deceptively well padded. Who knows, maybe they are. Leaning his head back, Matt laughs. Freedom. Sweet glorious freedom.

“Dude. Woah. What... happened to you?” Hunk asks warily whilst approaching.

Dragging a hand down his face, Matt groans. As if that’s not the million dollar question. Curiousity teeming, Pidge perches beside him. She adjusts the glasses on her face, crossing her legs. Their knees bump. And call the cliché police or whatever, but Matt is just so infinitely proud of her. So much so he almost forgets the current bane of his existence.

What happened. Right. Okay. There's only one explanation to give.

“ _Keith_ happened to me.”  

“Oh, right!” Unfazed, and remarkably unsympathetic to Matt’s evident _despair,_ Hunk continues. “How’s Keith doing? Did he - did he like the soup? Did he say anything about it? Did it help?”

“Don't ask,” Matt pleads because this is not an experience he wants to recall or relive again. Next time he's leaving this to Kolivan.

“It can't be that bad.” Pidge prompts.

It's that bad. Matt really doesn’t want to talk about it. Truly... There’s only so much of Keith’s obscure hobbies manifesting and blatant escape attempts Matt can take. From crawling across the floor towards the door - because Keith could no longer stand upright - insisting he had to train, to speaking entirely in some strange variant of slam poetry verse when his temperature spiked, to deciding that if he can’t get to the training room then throwing knives from the bed to hit a makeshift target will have to do, to doing elaborate tricks with his knife like a kid on a skateboard showing off only to get teary when it doesn’t go to plan; Keith’s restlessness had rendered him into something entirely impossible and bizarre.

And maybe if Matt wishes really hard, only in his darkest dreams can those memories reach him now. To think, he really thought he had enough sway to get Keith to rest. Oh how wrong he was. He can still hear one specific line Keith thought would be good to improvise around for approximately two hours whilst growing more and more delirious. _The blade in my hands it cuts… it cuts just like a knife._

Hunk exchanges a weighted look with Pidge.

They don’t understand. For the first time concerning Keith, that’s good.

“He’s okay,” Matt assures them, waving away his own miseries. “And he had nothing but good words for the soup.”

“He did?” Hunk beams, hands coming together with enthusiasm.

 _Oh yes he did._ A lot of good words. Keith had waxed poetic about that blasted soup. He’d done it so earnestly and passionately, too. It had been sweet at first, but as soon as the cold reached its worst point that praise became a pastiche of Shakespeare Matt never asked for and didn’t want to hear. Especially as a slam poem.

_The blade in my hands cuts… it cuts just like a knife. Not a blade. But it is a blade. It’s also-_

“-Whilst all that’s great news, we still need to talk,” Matt is so grateful for the interruption to this endless unwanted mantra, even if Pidge sounds troubled. “We need to talk about Keith.” Meeting her eyes, Matt feels suddenly apprehensive. He’s not sure if he should’ve prepared something, because he hasn’t. But they held their end of the deal, now it’s his turn.

“Okay,” running a hand through his hair, Matt braces himself. “Okay, yeah. You’re right, Pidge. Go get the others and we’ll… talk.”  

Here goes nothing.  

\--

They’re sat in one of the conference rooms, in a tidy circle like it’s sharing time. Sharing time, that’s exactly what it is. The whole team are here on Matt’s request, waiting for him to break the silence with absolutely no idea what they’ve walked into. Neither is Matt, to be fair. Clearing his throat, he takes a seat in the circle between Pidge and Hunk. Okay. This is much scarier than he thought it would be. He’s not a paladin, he’s not a pilot of Voltron. But then again, maybe that’s a good thing here. A bit of outside perspective, a fresh voice.

Just like the Council Of Elrond, he’s holding a meeting. That’s all.

“What do you guys think of Keith?”

The team exchange bewildered glances. There’s hesitance. Out of all of them, Allura is the first to answer. Hands clasped in her lap, she smiles. There’s something timid about the way she speaks. “I am… incredibly proud of him.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Hunk adds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t and just doesn’t know how to talk about this.

Pidge nods. “Same.”  

It’s been less than a minute and Matt thinks this might just turn out to be one big group therapy session he’s not remotely qualified to lead.

“Mullets aside, he’s not so bad. He does a lot of cool stuff and he always makes it look easy.” Lance pulls a sour expression, as if it’s physically painful to let go of a facade he’s grown too accustomed to. But the fact he seems to realise this reaction isn’t genuine or his true feelings counts for a lot. This is more of a knee-jerk reaction. Hard to shake, tough to break - no. Rhyming is off-limits, completely. Matt glances between them all, waiting for more.

“Seriously,” he asks. “That’s it? That’s all you guys have?”

“I’m proud of him,” Allura repeats to fill the abrupt and stilted silence.

 _God_ , all of this would be so much easier if he were asking who would be willing to take the ring to Mordor and destroy it in the fires of Mount Doom. It’s too late, anyway. The wrath of Mordor is already upon them. Or at least, it will be soon if he doesn’t get this right and restore the balance.

“Alright. So how about this, do you tell him any of that?” Not that there’s much in there to pass. If all the group can slap together is being proud and then chirping in agreement, Matt is bitterly disappointed on Keith’s behalf. Again, the group turn to each other for reassurance. It’s not until now Matt realises just how dependent they are on each other. They’ve become quite the unit. “When’s the last time you guys called him or wondered how he was doing?”

It’s not an accusation, just a question. But it’s a loaded one.

“We’ve been forming the coalition and rallying our forces,” Allura says diplomatically on behalf of the team. She’s parcelling up excuses so beautifully that he almost accepts it without second thoughts. “And we are all currently quite preoccupied in deciding how to handle Lotor.”

“Besides, he could always call us,” Pidge chips in with a shrug far too nonchalant. It’s pointedly nonchalant - _actually_ defensive. More, she can’t meet Matt’s eyes, which proves he’s onto something. Pidge only starts to push the focus away and quip back with observations that are too sharp if the subject is getting a little too personal. She cares, a lot. They all do.

That’s why this conversation is so hard.

“If you don’t tell him, do you think he knows?”

The answer is clear in the following quiet: they don’t know.

“Where exactly is this going, Matt?” Shiro asks, and he sounds petulant whilst pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Got somewhere to be?” Goodness gracious _great balls of fire_ that came out way too quickly and without any tact. This is it, this is how Matt dies. Bury him now. Hastily, he tacks on a “Sir” as if that will help. Shiro doesn’t bite, however. He’s patient, but not unaffected by the words.  Matt’s struck all the wrong chords with too much force. He might have just brought on the apocalypse. But then Shiro smiles and it’s not unkind. Maybe it’s not judgement day just yet.

“Not at all,” Shiro says slowly. “This is about Keith, and if you’ve brought us together to talk then it’s important. So we’re listening.”  

“Keith’s been unwell.”

Shiro bolts up in his seat, concern spreading over his face. Interesting. So Pidge and Hunk didn’t tell the others about Keith’s cold. If Matt had a beard, or a goatee, he’d be stroking it thoughtfully.

“Don’t worry. He’s okay, it was just a little cold.” Just a little case of the _raging rhinos._  

“Is that what you wanted to tell us?” Lance probes, raising an eyebrow. “...Keith got a cold?”

Matt’s got the jitterbug, and not the fun kind. Clenching a fist he takes a breath and out it all comes. It’s not Lance’s doing, but he’s the unfortunate catalyst to pushing that final button.

“That’s not what I’m trying to talk to you about!” Matt folds his arms. “I forget that you guys still have no idea that Keith was planning to fly straight into that shield.”

Well. That is not the way he wanted that to come out. Shiro stiffens. Around him the team visibly tense.

There is no u-turn to take, no route recalculation. Only this path. _The highway to hell._

“What are you saying?” Hunk starts, voice trembling. “Lotor was there, he - _he saved us.”_

“Before that.” Just recalling it is disturbing. “Before Lotor showed up, Keith wanted to give us all a chance. If Lotor hadn’t shown up, he would’ve hit that shield at full-speed.”

The implications are clear enough. And the silence that follows is unnerving. Matt shuffles in his seat. There was no easy way to break the news. Humour may have been his preferred choice at the start, but making light of Keith’s life even to lessen the weight of the subject doesn’t seem right.

“We congratulated him…” Pidge folds her hand and splays the cards on the table. She’s yielded. Matt slings an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. The others are quiet, spooked. Wide watery eyes. Gaping mouths. Pidge leans against Matt, squeezing his hand. They are all frightened by the words and by what they could have been. Even Matt can’t escape that sensation.

Allura’s expression hardens, head lifted.

“He should never have left for the blade of Marmora, maybe then would he not have been led down such a path.”

Sometimes, it’s remarkable how the Princess can actively cherry-pick her information.

“Actually Princess,” Pidge counters, regathering herself enough to speak. Matt purses his lips. His sister sounds irritated and not above making digs that hit in all the right places. “You probably didn’t remember because we were, you know, _rescuing you from central command.”_ Ouch. Pidge over-seasoned that with salt. “But whilst we were there, Keith was willing to single-handedly take on Zarkon to get the black lion. He’s always been ready to do what’s best for the mission, way _way_ before the blades.”

Cheeks tinged with pink, Allura clears her throat as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, yes. I suppose that’s true.”

“Yeah. But that’s not always in the _best interests_ of the team,” Lance says and he sounds like he has all the Keith Receipts ready to pull up. Only Allura regains herself and swiftly elaborates. If someone is going to bring it up, then she seems to think taking the reigns is the best decision.

“It’s not something I take pleasure in saying, but might I remind you Keith put the team in jeopardy.”

Matt blinks in surprise. Is this really the direction they’re going to take this? It has to be the shock.

“Yeah,” Hunk adds shakily. “Um, he kind of abandoned us and went off to do his own thing and because of that when - when we got attacked we couldn’t form Voltron.”

“Pidge did the same thing to find me,” Matt replies quickly. Pidge ducks her head. There’s more to this than Matt knows. Secret forbidden knowledge nobody is owning up to. “So Keith isn’t alone in making a choice that impacts your plans.”

“But Pidge wasn’t flying the _black lion.”_

“Maybe so.” Matt hopes everyone is imagining a dramatic zoom into his face. “But without Pidge you still wouldn’t have been able to form Voltron.”

Lance sinks a little into his seat, arms folded. He’s losing persistence. “That’s still different.”

Bingo. Matt leans back, satisfied he’s not the one who brought them to that conclusion. He can’t be doing all the work. Finger-guns are apparently Lance’s thing, so he settles for snapping his fingers.

“Exactly. Whilst Keith was on missions for the blade of Marmora, Pidge went off for reasons that you can’t tie to Voltron’s cause. They were personal.” Even if it was for him, Matt can’t be biased. For Keith’s sake, he has to give this a shot.

“I never considered that point of view,” Pidge admits and she’s embarrassed for it. “But the logic makes sense.”

“Yeah. Oh man… yeah I have to say, hard agree.” Hunk nods. “I mean, we’d probably be hypocrites if we didn’t admit you’re actually right about that.”

That spurs Matt on. He’s been recharged by the Brainables. 

“So,” cue the majestic Star Trek theme tune music. It’s fitting. In this conversation, they have boldly gone where no one has gone before. “I think we can agree that things didn’t go the way _anyone_ planned. But just think for a second, when has Keith really done something for himself out here?”

Lance opens his mouth. Okay. Small steps, a compromise will have to do.

"And put his needs before the universe's."

Shiro looks over pointedly. Lance closes his mouth.

“We should call Keith,” Hunk suggests through sniffles he can’t hide.  “Talk to him. Make sure he’s… okay.”

It’s a good start. Matt can’t be the person to fix this rift, but he can at least nudge them in the right direction. Standing, Matt drops the mic he doesn’t have. That was exhausting. 

“Thank you for your time. Magic Matt is now leaving stage left. I believe my work here is done.”  

\--

Going to the blade headquarters the next day proves to be a mistake Matt can’t take back. He realises this the second Keith comes into view, the moment Keith speaks.  

“You told them.”

Keith marches forwards, a fiery glare blazing so ferociously that the sparks catch in his eyes. The sheer intensity is impossible to ignore. As Keith gets closer, Matt realises then that Keith isn’t angry. No. He’s _frustrated,_ yes. But more than this, he’s upset. The rasp in Keith’s voice isn’t burning to the recipient, it cuts deeper into himself. Even now, when Matt has definitely done a bit-of-a-bad, Keith is holding himself back. He could be overpowering, intimidating.

Instead, Keith clenches a fist, averting his gaze. It’s as if he’s crumpling the flames in his hands, smothering it so meticulously so it dwindles to a dull ember. It’s still intent, though. Flicking his eyes up, Keith keeps his voice hushed. Matt surrenders to it. What else can he do, when he's the one at fault.

“Why did you tell them?”

“I’m sorry, Keith,” he admits because he is sorry. Oh man. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sharing that information with the team hadn’t been something he planned, but it wound up getting them to listen a lot more to his words. Still, Matt heeds the ancient proverb of the One Republic: it’s too late to apologise. Never has an old pop-song been so foreboding.

Here, the damage has been done.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. There’s such a direct nature about the way it’s delivered, Matt flinches. This isn’t Keith being unforgiving or cold, this is Keith being reasonable. Sharp honesty. Not all truths are nice ones. If there’s anyone who will tell something how it is, be sincere in the conviction and stick to it no matter what - it’s Keith. His determination is an unstoppable force and his moral code an unmovable object. _“You shouldn’t have.”_

Alarm bells are blaring, the violin on his shoulder is bowing too hard. There’s no rain, but Matt feels he’s standing in the heart of a storm. Soaked to the bone and shivering. Somehow, he’s also being roasted. There’s heat rising and tearing through him. Keith is good at that, somehow making two polar opposites work in complete unison.

“I just… “ Matt begins, and Keith is watching so closely. There is so much focus there it’s a little unsettling. Even when the same courtesy is rarely extended to him, Keith listens. He waits. He considers. Matt knows these words have to be good ones, the right ones. God this is his big breakthrough movie moment and he’s so underprepared with his lines. He desperately needs a ghostwriter. “It happened so fast and I just said it before I could stop myself.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Keith takes a seat. Matt isn’t sure how that’s worse than him walking closer but it is. “Uh-huh.” _Try again,_ Matt hears - a self-proclaimed expert in reading between the lines.

Oh no. That’s bad. That’s really bad. He’s being judged. And Keith’s opinion matters, it really does. Far more than Matt thought it ever could. Stepping forwards slowly, he wrings his hands together.

“When you flew towards that shield, I was really worried about you.”

“I can appreciate that.” In this moment, Keith rivals Allura in diplomacy. He’s biting his tongue, being careful with his words. There’s a massive ‘but’ there that is waiting to drop. Behind him, Matt hears it all. The singing Zebra in the Lion King sequel is damning him right now. This is it, his exile. _Deception. Disgrace._

Rhinos. Elephants. Zebras. _Lions._

Maybe this is a zoo, after all.

“But that doesn’t mean you get to make those calls and decide how I’m feeling without asking. Then- then just… _share that_ with everyone.” Keith sounds exasperated. So tired in a way that is difficult to process. Worse, as if he expected nothing different to this outcome. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Keith closes his eyes. The tension piles onto his shoulders. He carries it all, teeth gritted. “It was my choice. It wasn’t - it was never about anyone else or anything besides the mission. Voltron had to make it out. Millions of people were going to die. It was the right thing to do, and I wouldn't take it back. That would just make it meaningless.”

 _Oh Keith…_ Matt clenches his jaw. It makes sense. It does.

“If there was a chance to end this thing for good, I’d take it again.” Pause. Keith bites down on his lip, as if unsure whether he should part with his next words. After a hard blink he does. But it's not without consequence. His composure falters, voice splitting open. “ _Whatever_ kind of person that makes me.”

Matt’s eyes widen. Keith thinks he’s being selfish. _Selfish._ When in reality, it’s exactly how he said it.

For everything bigger than him. But not better than him.

“Keith…”

“It's okay, Matt.” He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes, fabricated for the sake of making _Matt_ feel better. It's not okay. “You weren't to know.”

“Know what?” Matt swallows down the dread thick and uncomfortably lodged in his throat. Keith must be really tired, because he's actually indulging Matt’s question rather than racing towards evasion.

“That it’s... probably true. What people always say.” Throwing his hands up, Keith sighs. “I put others in jeopardy. I'm a hothead, and I'm the loner who’s thinking of himself as usual.” Oh the team are so not off the hook yet. Miscommunication 101 the epic saga. Pause. “I'm difficult.”

Keith is none of those things. He is not infallible, but that doesn't mean the words that trail after him are _true._ Honestly, this is one step too close to open self-depreciation Matt can stand to watch. For someone who can be consistently objective about the mission and his judgments of other people, it’s astounding how it all falls so short when it comes to himself. The confidence shatters, but the conviction in what he's saying is still there.

Keith wants to be better than these words and prove them wrong, he wants to be more.

He can't see how far he has taken them all, how much he has done.

That's the curse of living so firmly in the present. Never look back. Never look too far ahead. Only now counts. It's a set-up for unrealistic expectations. Self-sabotage and destruction in a subtle yet horribly vindictive way. That can't be _why_ Keith is so rooted in the present. But if could be a part of it.

Maybe.

Matt probably has lost the luxury to say he can understand Keith right now. Even he got swept into making assumptions. And Keith is right. Matt didn't have the right to assume, and then share those assumptions. Not without talking to Keith first.  

“Nobody really means those things, Keith.” It's the wrong thing to say. Keith winces, narrowing his eyes.

“Sure, just like you didn't mean to tell the team all that stuff.”

It's a low blow, but Matt has no real grounds to be upset. It's true.

“Do you want me to leave?” is all he manages. This isn’t going the way he wants, and Keith doesn’t look comfortable. He doesn't feel comfortable either, but it's less about him. Enough times has Keith been the afterthought. He didn't even consider maybe Keith wasn't ready to have this talk.

Brow furrowing, Keith blinks.

“What?”

“Do you want me to go?” Gesturing to the door, Matt takes a step back. The disco ball is hanging above his head, the horns a funeral march rather than something fun. Still, he can’t kill the groove when it’s his only chance at getting through this. Dance through life, boogie through death. “I’ll walk out the door. I’ll just turn around now, cos I’m not welcome anymore-”

“-You can’t be serious.” Keith ducks his head. It’s not until a breathless laugh escapes his lips Matt realises he got the reference in an instant. Of course he did. Keith just keeps surprising him by continuously defying all the words tossed his way in the most brilliant of ways. “If you were gonna exit like that, there was a better song to pick.”

“What song.” Matt needs to know. For science he has to. From where he’s standing that was the best possible choice and to say otherwise cannot be without evidence.

Lifting his head, Keith raises his eyebrows. Top secret, then. Matt’s never thought eyebrows could be so sassy, he was so wrong. The gesture is enough for his hopes to soar higher than they should. Because there’s something so raw and bruising about being on the receiving end of Keith’s mistrust. It’s a terrible place to be and Matt wants to leave this shadow realm immediately. Seeing Keith give a whole mile when he deserves but an inch is a relief.

“We’re okay?” Matt asks to be sure. This feels like a lucky cheat code. “You… we’re really okay? If you want to roast me some more you totally can. I'll give you some dirt on me for free. I like pineapple on pizza, I don't like Star Wars but I still know all the characters and if I had to choose then I prefer the Star Wars prequels, I know all the words and actions to -”

“-Matt.” A small smile spreads across Keith’s lips and Matt gasps. There are no trap cards. No ploys. Here sits the most tolerant person he’s ever met, not even on a self-righteous gloating throne when he has every reason to be.

“It’s good,” Keith confirms. “We’re good.”

\--

They’re good. Just like Keith said.

But they’re not really good, which makes perfect sense in hindsight.

Matt supposes it’s equivalent exchange. For overstepping a boundary and doing a Bad, he catches Keith’s cold. Only, it doesn’t stop there. It starts with a sneeze, and all goes downhill from that point on. Rapidly. There’s an unpleasant throbbing between Matt’s eyes, and a fuzziness in his head that makes reciting the periodic elements in reverse order something extremely challenging. Ugh. If this is just a fraction of what Keith felt, then Matt wants out.

Rubbing his forehead, he blinks hard. Getting sick is not something that sounds like could happen in space. It’s far too trivial, too arbitrary and mundane. No wonder Keith hated it so much. His thoughts are muddier than usual, eyelids heavy. It’s not until movement in front of him happens Matt remembers where he is. And it’s too late to plot an escape course. He’s at the Blade headquarters, visiting Keith.

Keith, who is leaning towards Kolivan with a calculated twist in his lips that just says everything. Oh. _Oh._

“Kolivan,” Keith starts. “There's something you need to know.”  

“I see,” Kolivan hums thoughtfully, eyes darting over to Matt. He looks uncertain. Worse, _cautious._ This is it. All aboard the train to caution town, and be sure to buckle up those seatbelts. “Go on.”

Yep, definitely more than a-bit-not-good. The headlines are in his grasp now: Local Rebel Makes (1) Mistake And Gets Exactly What He Deserves In Return, *Elric Brothers Please Do Not Try This At Home.

“The thing is that Matt- as you probably noticed he… well he caught the _raging rhinos_ from me. I spoke to Pidge earlier and she said there’s been complications. It’s turned into the _bandicooties_ , which means now it could be contagious.”

There is so much in that sentence that is completely out of place to hear in Keith’s voice. Okay. First of all, it’s a blatant lie. Keith hasn't spoken to Pidge. Matt knows this. She would've been on Matt's case within seconds. But he still can't speak, too shocked by what he’s hearing. It’s surreal. Keith is lying, so terribly too. How Kolivan can even believe this nonsense when Keith is objectively the _worst liar on record_ Matt doesn’t know. But it definitely knocks a gold star off Kolivan’s name. Dishonour on him, dishonour on the blades. Dishonour on the cow.

“Bandicooties,” Matt repeats flatly in disbelief. And to think Keith had the gall to insult _Brainables._

“Bandicooties…” Kolivan muses seriously.

Even now, when he’s being stabbed in the back by a friend, Matt has to appreciate and respect that Kolivan listens to Keith - his voice matters. It’s good. Plucking the word ‘ _bandicooties’_ from Kolivan is also quite a gift.

“Yeah. Bandicooties.” Keith keeps eye contact with Matt the whole time. Matt is speechless. “And I think… I’m not saying I like the idea but,” _No._ No. No. Keith absolutely _loves_ this idea. Kolivan is being conned _._ “I think he might have to go into quarantine.”

“How long would you suggest, Keith?”

Keith folds his arms, humming thoughtfully. He holds Matt’s life in his hands. Right now he is so powerful.

“Twelve vargas should fix him up.”

Matt decides then this is the easiest game of Cluedo to call. The cause of this murder is clear: Keith, in the BOM Base, with the Audacious Lies.

“I’d like to phone a friend,” Matt offers weakly through a sniffle. Calling Pidge and Hunk is out of the question. They’ll laugh. Pidge will probably congratulate Keith. Either way, Matt is never going to live this down.

Never. Still, he persists.

“Please, let me phone a friend.”

“That request is denied. You have friends here who have your best interests in mind,” Kolivan responds and Keith purses his lips tightly. He’s enjoying this. _What a little shit._ Best interests. Sure. Though the words have Matt glancing up in surprise.

“Wait, you’d consider me a _friend_?”

“I was referring to your bond with Keith. But having a... ‘nerd’ for an acquaintance is not entirely displeasing.”

Acquaintance, Matt will take that. “You know Kolivan, you could be a nerd too one day. Hey, maybe you already are one.”

Kolivan looks over, something close to a rueful smile on his face. And then Matt sneezes three times in a row.

The moment is instantly broken.

Keith goes in for the final kill.

And he’s absolutely right, he’s been right this entire time. The blade cuts, just like a knife.

\--

Without question, this ranks as number one in top ten anime betrayals.

“Keith?!” Matt is scandalised, banging a fist against the glass as the door closes. He feels like Obi Wan watching Anakin turn to the dark side right in front of his salad. “Keith, come on! I said I was sorry, you said we were _good!_ This is not what I’d call good!”

“Sorry. Can’t hear you through the glass.” For good measure, Keith knocks twice. It's playful and immature and Matt expected far better from Keith than to succumb so easily to such pettiness.

The sheer devotion to settle this score is extremely impressive. Like everything Keith does, it’s all or nothing. It’s not a grudge, it's just getting even. It's unspeakably fair, in a way that’s _unfair._

Matt glances around the room, accepting his defeat. It’s happened. He’s been bested by Keith. Eye Of The Tiger is not a song the blades are likely to have at their disposal, but Matt swears he can hear it. He’s being watched by the eyes of the tiger. And god, he can't believe it - Keith’s played him at his own damn game. The joy he got from _raging rhinos_ and elaborate science fiction references came at such a high cost.

“I'm in quarantine...”

“Yeah. You're in quarantine,” Keith folds his arms across his chest, smirking. He looks so pleased with himself. With a mock salute that is far too cheeky to be allowed, and definitely a subversion of the polite mannerisms Keith often sinks into, he slips out the room. Well. That’s what you get for playing with fire.

Keith is so dangerous. Matt is a fool.

“ _Oh my god_ , I’m in quarantine.”


	3. oh my god, who's in quarantine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call him beep him if you wanna reach him. Apparently, Keith Possible is officially a go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning for mentions of regris' death, we touch on some similar notes to previous times. i also couldn't resist introducing my two BOM OCs into this verse, they crop up in most of my fics - im happy to welcome them here too 8) 
> 
> sO 90% of this part has been sitting for months on end and i finally finished it yesterday. it's been a pretty rough time lately for me and turning to this made me really laugh a lot, this fic is very fun and a comfort to me - i hope you guys have some laughs reading like i did writing!!
> 
> -

As expected, once the Brainables find out, they never let Matt forget. In fact, they make a conscious effort to bring it up whenever relevant. Even when not relevant, it’s still unavoidable, on the tip of everyone’s tongue. It’s officially a series of unfortunate events he might have brought upon himself but it doesn’t make it any less unfortunate. That’s what Matt calls it - ASOUEHMHBUHBIDMIALU, for short.

This has been his own personal event horizon, customised and tailored by the universe - and Keith - just for him.

For twelve Vargas, he’d been stuck in quarantine with nothing but a pile of Galra books he couldn’t read without a translator he didn’t have and some paper. And just when the paper had presented itself as the final glimmer of hope, the spec of light in a time of darkness, Matt had discovered there was no pen. Even though Matt had little desire to put pen to paper and write, not having a pen somehow had ramped up his urge to write something tenfold.

But he couldn’t, because there was nothing to write with.

Needless to say, it had been awful. Still, he owed Keith this and thus the debt had been paid. Now with twelve vargas in quarantine ticked off the bucket list, it seemed things were back to normal between them.

At least, until Matt bumped into Keith on his way out of the one thousand doorways and decontamination rooms surrounding quarantine and Keith laughed. Louder and heartier than Matt had ever heard him. If it were anyone else it would have been excessive, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling around the edges. But with Keith, every gesture, every move that he makes - well, Phil Collins finally becomes appropriate source material in this situation.

 _‘Ha, you really stayed in there the whole time?’_ Keith had asked with a face-splitting grin that made his eyes brighter. ‘ _I left the door unlocked.’_

It had been pure evil.

Now the thing is, Keith isn’t evil - he’s the embodiment of everything evil wants to smite - but in that moment he had designed a place almost as terrible as hell itself. And Matt had chosen to stay in it willingly when he could have unknowingly left at any time. It was the brilliant deception you expect from a James Bond villain and Matt laments that he had been too noble and stunned to even check the door in the first place.

Keith took more than a win that day, he took Matt’s dignity and buried it somewhere far far away.

Basically, Matt isn’t entirely over the whole ordeal yet. Parts of it are bound to haunt him. Perhaps that’s the price to pay for what he did, the ultimate cost of his mistakes.

Fortunately, whilst the Brainables will never let him live this down, Olia and the rebels are slightly more merciful. That, and salvaging the budding friendship he and Keith had been building, is the one good thing to come out of this facade.

“Incoming call,” Olia calls out from the front of their ship. “Kolivan.”

Spoiler: It’s not Kolivan.

“Oh uh, hey Keith.”

It’s Keith.

The rebels exchange confused glances as Keith stands on screen. Alone. Matt doesn’t think it should be so endearing that Keith is off-centre, notably leaving a place where Kolivan usually stands. The screen seems empty, incomplete without Kolivan stood there.

For a moment, Matt would like to believe Kolivan has passed on some of the load to his right-hand in training. But another part fears a Mufasa moment has transpired. Keith's expression is the only reassurance he can find that hasn’t happened. That, and the lack of foreshadowing through musical background swells.

Having spent more time with Keith, Matt’s come to learn how remarkably open the former paladin is. Every emotion flares into life over his skin like fire. It’s mesmerising to watch the flickers, the subtle shifts. It’s not fear or grief on his face. No, it's closer to embarrassment. Keith can’t seem to meet Matt’s eyes. He even shuffles a little on his feet, which is definitely a sign. Something is up regardless.

“Where’s Kolivan?” Matt asks because nobody else has taken it upon themselves to do it. But everyone has to be thinking the same thing.

“Kolivan is…” Keith clears his throat, recomposing himself. And out comes the biggest plot twist Matt’s ever heard in his life, which says far too much for just a passing comment.

“He’s in quarantine.”

Quarantine.

“He's in quarantine?” Olia asks, and god baby Matt swears it’s deja vu. Thank you Beyoncé for such a banger. Forever an anthem. Somehow despite this being the third case of quarantine in weeks, it’s not at all formulaic or expected. It breaks the mould.  

“He's in quarantine,” Keith repeats, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased about supplying the ammo for an incoming joke. Honestly, the entire universe has aligned to set this up. Matt has a chance there is no way he can't take it. He has to take it, before the proverbial Frodo Baggins jumps in and declares he will take it all to Mordor himself. Stealing jokes is an unforgivable crime.

“Oh my god,” Matt breathes. “He's in quarantine.”

In response, Keith gives him a pointed look. The kind where his lips push out a pout, his eyebrows furrow and those eyes are full of the typical biting sarcasm Matt has only just started to discover existed.

“You done?” Keith asks flatly. It's amazing. It’s so brilliant. There's a small curve to his lips that throws it all off balance, a suggestion of amusement he won’t indulge and oh my god. Keith knows. He gets the reference and he might even find it funny. Mark this down as the best day of the year, Keith for secret meme king.

Matt struggles to swallow down his next question - Keith, how do you feel about puns - but regathers himself because the truth is too much. Kolivan is in quarantine. Over-cautious space Mufasa Kolivan is in quarantine. It's just bordering surreal how this scenario of quarantine won't cease, whilst juxtaposed against serious themes. What kind of absurdist tongue-in-cheek fanfiction is this, and where can he sue the author for defaming his credibility as the sole narrator. Matt needs to know, his integrity is pretty much ruined.

“Matrix theories aside,” Matt says and Keith blinks at him. Hard and slow, just like a long-dragged sigh between his eyes. “How did this happen? Is Kolivan okay?”

“He's fine,” there's a crease in Keith’s brow which tugs at Matt’s heart deep. Keith cares so much. Matt’s caught the way he hovers by Kolivan’s side, how his face lights up when praise is offered. Bless this hopelessly awkward pair, pattering around words that are waiting to be said. “For the most part.”

“Say no more,” Matt interjects because he can’t listen to this - not over the comms. Keith’s voice has done that thing where it gets tight and rigid, where the words barely squeeze out like that tragic last part of ketchup in the bottle not even a knife can cleave out. Whatever Keith has to say, he’s not comfortable relaying it to everybody and that’s fine. It’s too much exposure, privacy is required.

“I’m on my way.”

The comms cut, and Matt slumps in his seat.

 _Wow._ So that just happened.

\--

The journey to the BOM base is a contemplative one. Matt mulls over what iconic found father-son disney movie trope he is going to see re-enacted by the time he gets through to the quarantine zone. At first he suspects the Tarzan vibes could prevail, but that would infer Kolivan had once been resistant to Keith’s presence which is so far from the truth. So it’s with hesitation Matt abandons Phil Collins in the jungle, for now. But it’s fine, because just like Ian Malcolm, Phil Collins always finds a way. He’ll be back.

By the time Matt gets there, parks his ship in the hangar, he decides there’s probably no comparison he can draw. Which is good, in a way because Kolivan and Keith have a bond that mostly goes unspoken, and ultimately it’s their own.

So Quarantine is just as exhaustive as it had been the last two times he’d passed through. Decontamination rooms and a shower later, he’s finally deemed free enough of space bacterium to pass into the zone of doom.

As he rounds the corner, he’s greeted by Keith pacing up and down the corridor. His footsteps are heavy, weighted in a way that evades description. Yet somehow alongside this he moves fast and sharp, as always. The paradox would be more intriguing if Keith’s expression wasn’t so pinched. Matt tries to be quiet, unobtrusive, but Keith looks up as if he’s heard an explosion detonate in their vicinity. There’s just no sneaking around Keith, which is ironic considering he’s literally terrible at sneaking himself.

“Matt?” Keith asks, coming to an abrupt standstill and it’s almost disbelieving. The way he says it is as if he really wasn’t sure Matt would come. That’s a little insulting.

“The one and only,” Matt responds, his best saunter deployed for a total of four steps. Keith’s gaze flicks between his feet and his face, notably unimpressed. Well, it’s not Matt’s fault not _everybody_ fits the criteria to get a space harem. Sometimes you have to do all the work yourself. He states as much, accusingly, and Keith has the audacity to look confused. Oh god, he doesn’t even know how many hearts would and probably pine for him.

It’s a modern tragedy.

Approaching the glass, Matt peers into the room. He can’t help but feel he’s looking into the enclosure of an esteemed creature from Jurassic Park. Seeing Kolivan behind glass is just as strange and impossible, to be honest.

“How is he?”

“Alright. I guess,” Keith responds.

Matt spots a handful of pens on the table and decides on the spot Keith’s the kind of dangerous that is deceptive. Of course Kolivan gets every resource he needs whilst in quarantine, of course. This is undeclared favouritism at play here. He’s prepared to address the issue at hand, deciding against it when he sees Keith’s eyes crash down with his demeanour. His gaze settles on the floor, feet idly kicking the corner where the cement meets the glass. Matt has never seen something so dejected. Despite being the one doing the kicking, Keith looks like he’s been kicked down himself.

“He only just starting coughing.”

Right. Kolivan makes his way over, having spent a considerable time eyeing the pair of them from the other side of the glass. It’s clear he’s more reluctant to interact with Matt than Keith, which is fine. Their friendship may be a slow burn, but it’s going to be one of the greatest in the history of the universe - besides his iconic friendship with Keith obviously. Kolivan presses the buzzer down, and speaks through the intercom. Matt notices his voice is unusually muffled.

“Considering I am the first without human genes to contract the Raging Rhinos, we must ensure there is no risk and eliminate any doubts of an outbreak.”

The mention of Raging Rhinos has Keith’s lips twitching upward a little, at least. That’s good. Because it is objectively ridiculous. If Kolivan knew what a Rhino was he’d know that too. But he doesn’t, because he’s a majestic incredible space mufasa leading the coolest most incredible group of secret agents Matt has ever known. Spy kids please step aside.

“But that does not mean we should lessen our efforts,” Kolivan continues. At the words, Keith stands dutiful, and bound to something truly honourable. “Something has been brought to my attention, which merits an investigation.”

“So what's the sitch?” Keith asks far too easily, and Matt almost chokes on water he isn’t drinking but wishes he was so he could spit it out. Unfortunately, gaping just doesn’t quite have the same dramatic effect.

There stands Keith. His face betrays nothing, the epitome of focused. Well damn. Still, those lines can’t be a mistake. It’s so Keith in a way that’s casual and imperative, but there’s absolutely no way Matt can unhear it.

Kolivan explains the mission through the glass, but Matt isn’t listening. He can’t. He’s just waiting for the space rodent to hop out and for Dr. Drakken to suddenly take hostage of the comms network to declare the next candidate to reach the Top Ten Dastardly Evil Plans Most Likely To Fail list. A sharp prod to Matt’s ribs has him looking over to Keith. There’s a pout on his face, eyebrow raised.

“Did you get any of that?” Keith nudges Matt in the side.

Absolutely not. “Of course I did.”

Keith raises The Eyebrow of eternal judgement, wearing the kind of intense scrutiny that could break anyone in seconds during an interrogation. On the other side of the glass, Kolivan is quiet between splutters that have Keith’s attention sharply flitting between the two of them. Those eyes soon soften, brow creasing in clear concern. Then Keith leans towards the glass, and he presses a hand against it. It’s gentle, reassuring. Unspeakably kind. To Matt’s surprise, Kolivan reciprocates the gesture. Even without Phil Collins, this is truly a touching moment. Matt is unsure if he should even be watching this unfold at all.

Maybe he shouldn’t have doomed Phil Collins to the jungle, Two Worlds could come in mighty handy right now.

“We’ll be back soon,” Keith declares, making his way out of the room in one swift motion. Determination is etched into every part of him.  With a brief wave that feels hideously inappropriate and meagre, Matt follows him. He has no idea where they’re going, but he knows Keith and that’s enough. Call him, beep him if you wanna reach him.

Apparently, Keith Possible is officially a go.

\--

As the debriefing happens en route to their ship, Matt likes to imagine there’s an epic theme song playing behind them. A mixture of Lord Of The Rings and Star Trek, an incredible mash-up with ever incredible potential to reap. Lord Of The Star Trek. It doesn’t matter if he’s the only one who believes that, nobody can take Captain Aragorn away from him. Nobody can destroy that crossover illusion for him.

Anyway, above the non-existent theme music, Keith explains their mission. They’re to visit a small planet in a neighbouring system, collect data of the quintessence shipments being stored there by the Galra for comparative purposes. Whilst not as powerful or concerning as the main tail of quintessence they’re chasing with Lotor, it’s a good lead to follow. Having a different sample to work with could prove to be very beneficial. It sounds simple enough, but Matt dares not say that out loud to tempt the unholy powers of the universe. He knows how every horror and suspense movie begins, and it’s usually with underestimating an underrated threat. Although, with Keith Possible on his side, the chances of anything happening are slim.

“What’s our team name?” Matt asks, innocently enough. Keith gives him the side eye, somehow both scalding and playful, and it merely spurs him on further. “Because I’m thinking a duo like us needs a tagline.”

Brow furrowing, Keith slows his pace. That’s a face of monumental confusion right there. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you know. The two of us have a lot of charisma,” Matt ventures with a proud smile because Keith chose to fight the dark side and he chose his incredibly dynamic partner to be him. “We deserve a team name.”

Keith Possible and Matt Stoppable has a ring to it.

It’s at that point they’re joined by two blades, who single-handedly crush Matt’s dreams of being on an epic side quest with his new maybe-one-day best friend. Keith meets his eyes, gives a shrug that is far from apologetic, more ‘well what did you expect’. Honestly, he’s right. Matt played himself on this one entirely. But it’s fine, it’s not like had started categorising the top ten best names for their team anyway.

Despite being significantly older, and taller for that matter, the two blades fall into step behind Keith without hesitation. Their masks are off, revealing two faces that take Matt by surprise mostly for how animated they are. It would be ignorant to label the blades as stoic, they're passionate and fierce freedom fighters, but something about the demeanour of these two is especially engaging.

The blade with small horns protruding from his head looks unspeakably wise and charming. He also looks like the kind of person who definitely deserves a beard because it would look fantastic but decides against having one just to torment everybody in the room. There's a flickering, child-like amusement in those yellow eyes. Even now, his nails scrape over skin in the way someone would stroke a beard. Matt's not sure how much he can watch of it without mourning something that doesn't exist, so he doesn't.

The other is much more lithe in build, a fraction taller. She has a spring in her step, the scales around the edges of her face shimmering with each move. Even her tail even seems content, swishing and making varying shapes in the air. But even so, there's an unmistakable aura of authority surrounding her. The sharp jawline, the accented crown of her skull - Matt already believes she could crush him in seconds and god he'd let her do it if the opportunity ever came.  

Keith fails spectacularly at hiding his smile when the shorter of the two brushes shoulders with him, says something in a low voice. The non-beared blade strokes his non-existent beard, a hearty laugh escaping his lips as he claps Keith on the back. It’s nice, seeing others be so gentle and understanding with Keith. There's a familiarity here that Keith himself may not even be aware of, but he's slipped into it so effortlessly, allowed them fully into his orbit. Matt yearns to be there too. Maybe he already is, or at least he was.

Whilst Keith insists they're okay, they're over the breach of trust and privacy, Matt isn't sure if playing quarantine was enough to really prove that. Whatever else he'd have to do, he would do it. But that's just the thing, the giant crux of this problem is that Keith would never wish hardship or suffering on anybody. And whilst being a little petty with the quarantine was expected, he holds no grudges. Instead, he moves on at a speedy pace, and he assumes everyone else runs by that code. They don't, of course. It's the kind of honour and respect that has withered throughout the universe.

It makes Matt want to do better, be a better friend to Keith for his own sake too.

“That's Akkim over there. I’m Sorang,” the Galra with the long swooshy tail says; she holds out a hand. Her scales are even more mesmerising up close, a mixture of lilac and turquoise. There’s an unfamiliar lilt to her voice, syllables and accents being stretched in odd places that make it harder to follow. Matt catches the forked tongue through her fangs as she speaks. “You must be the friend of Keith’s.”

Taking the hand, Matt nods. Sorang squeezes hard, and Matt wonders how fast fingers can lose circulation because he’s certain they’re all going to fall off under this pressure.

“Nice to meet you...” Matt manages, but he’s honestly not so sure considering he can barely feel his hand. Unfazed, Sorang walks forwards to take Keith’s other side. They seem protective of him, in an unspoken way that is clear as day. Matt wonders if they know about Keith’s attempted sacrifice, or if they’re just simply hyper-aware of how far he is prepared to go for any cause he believes in. Either way, he approves of this grouping.

The ship they have for the mission is a modest size, and there’s no question which of them will be piloting it to their destination. Not only due to capabilities, but leaving Keith static and taking the control from his reigns results in sheer chaos. He’s not just a backseat driver, by god it goes so much further than that. Matt knows because unfortunately he has had firsthand experience of this. Ranging from the simplest most mundane of tasks to the more complex, Keith likes to be the one getting his hands dirty and throwing himself into the midst of the situation.

He also had thrown himself towards a shield and almost blew himself up to smithereens for the universe, but Matt knows he didn’t actively like any part of that. Still, it remains jarring to think about - enough to derail his thoughts in the most unexpected of moments. Now, for instance. Blinking hard, Matt brings the heel of his hand to his eyes and presses. If he can't erase that memory, maybe he can stamp it out. There's only one way Matt wants to see Keith lost in the fire, consumed by flames - and it's like this. Ready for a mission with a team.

Keith has always walked with purpose, but now he’s flaunting his determination and completely owning it. There's absolutely no way you can look away from him. The blades in the loading bay come to a brief halt, gaze trailing after him. Some with the same protective streak Kolivan, Sorang and Akkim exude, some with a bitter pang of jealousy, others with something unreadable. But the energy of the room is fixed on one point, and it's like everything falls into epic slow motion with a panoramic zoom. Matt isn’t sure anybody else could pull off so much conviction and still be the most humble, honest person in the universe.

But here Keith is, a miracle with many paradoxes.

With Sorang and Akkim matching his pace, the three of them look nothing short of professional ghostbusters ready to defeat the ghouls sent their way. The outfits are different, and pretty much everything else, but the analogy is going to stick. Matt isn't weak enough to back down from his unpopular references.

They set off in the ship, and the amount of dark purple honestly has Matt feeling remarkably out of place. He’s definitely missed the colour scheme memo. Glancing down at his uniform, green and orange tones, he pats it. Self-conscious isn’t quite it, but there’s no way he doesn’t stick out as the anomaly of the group. Maybe he got it wrong, maybe this was why the blades were looking at them in the loading bay.

“Something wrong?” Keith looks over his shoulder, easing them out of the base to their coordinates. Immediately, Matt's doubts die a quick death. They were definitely looking at Keith, secret space vogue model samurai how-many-more-descriptions-can-Matt-tack-on-without-being-too-excessive-yet-somehow-still-nowhere-near-complimentary-enough.

“Only of the superficial kind," he admits.

Sorang and Akkim exchange curious looks.

“Try me.” Keith’s patience is waning, and it's only been a few minutes. In flight, Matt has noticed how restless he gets. All of him is devoted to action, drenched in it.

“We don’t match,” Matt admits. “I’m the only one in a different suit.”

“Why of course you are!” Sorang declares a fraction too loud.  “You are our mascot!”

In the pilot seat, Keith splutters on what can only be laughter. Matt gapes, staring down at himself. He likes to think he’s a well-built, capable human being thank you very much. The audacity is too much, an insult to his integrity. Mascot. No. This isn’t some high school sports game. If anything he’s the cool sidekick.

“I am a rebel fighter!” he interjects, defending his already slain dignity. But it’s okay because Matt has great self-perception, unlike a certain somebody he has come to grow closer to. That fact shouldn’t be such a solemn one, but with the backdrop of Keith’s near-sacrifice, it really truly is.

“That too,” Akkim adds with a nod as if contemplating the matter over very carefully. The worst part is he doesn't stroke his non-existent beard this time, so how carefully can he really be thinking about it hmm.

"Yes. You are very brave," Sorang offers.

Akkim snaps two fingers together. “But you are still our mascot.”

“It's true!” Sorang claps her clawed hands together, sounding thrilled at the prospect. “We have never been on a mission with a Nerd before, it’s very interesting. I am looking forward to learning more about Nerd on our journey.”

Keith definitely breaks his composure at that. An indignant snort escapes him, poorly stifled. But Matt can see those traitorous shoulders shaking with amusement. It’s criminal. So somewhere down the line, the nerd comment has been misconstrued and turned into some kind of object of fascination for the blades.

On their return, Matt is definitely going to be having words with Kolivan.

"Matt, do you mind if I ask about this nerd knighthood? I am very curious about Kolivan's initiation."

And he might just have to revoke that newly-appointed nerd status too.

\--

Yaraxia is a barren, rocky, unassuming planet. That is going to work both in their favour and against it. Matt can tell as they approach that whilst it’s not heavily guarded, the surveillance is impeccably suited for both the task and the environment. Being spotted could get them in a whole lot of trouble, it’s a fight that could leave them hideously outnumbered. Keith brings them smoothly round the back of the Galra base, landing a little way out between two large rocks.

From there, it’s sneaking time. Keith insists they use their surroundings to their advantage, weave through the rocks then slip through into one of the tunnels underground. It’s clever, and a little extra in a way that means none of the patrols would ever consider someone using such a challenging path. Keith leaps onto the first stone, agile and nimble as he moves yet packed with muscle. Before he continues climbing, Matt catches his masked face looking in his direction. Oh. Unsure what the Galra code is for ‘yes I’m fine you’re so lovely for checking on all your team’, Matt gives a thumbs up.

Keith mirrors the gesture, is probably grinning beneath the mask, and Matt is so glad his feet are still on solid ground at this point. And then they’re climbing like monkey spiders. Keith’s assessment of their route is impressive, Matt decides. The rocks are not as jagged as they appeared from down below. Somehow, Matt is sure Keith already figured that out. He’s a nature boy through and through, his entire being rooted in survival and adapting to his surroundings. If there’s anyone you would want to be stranded somewhere with, it’s Keith no question.

There’s no lingering in hesitation with his decisions, every action taken is firm and fast. But it’s not without careful consideration, another fine example of those paradoxes that craft him. Matt’s seen firsthand at Naxzela how dynamic and intuitive Keith’s leadership is. When he’s not thinking about it, just focusing on what needs to be done, it’s a marvel to follow him. Thrilling, even.

Matt isn’t surprised things haven’t worked out with Voltron yet. They don’t understand him, and they’re not completely trying to. That’s understandable in itself given the work they’re doing, the time constraints. But a good team bonding exercise wouldn’t go amiss. Here, Keith is assured in what they need to do. He may not be assured in himself, but it’s enough for this mission.

Sorang and Akkim take their places either side of Keith, lingering a few steps behind to give him the ability to lead the way. Matt keeps the rear secure, ensuring they aren’t followed or spotted. It’s an important job, definitely something a mascot couldn’t do.

The tunnels are quiet, in a way that is eerie. Keith slows his pace, backing up against the wall. He draws his blade, inching forwards cautiously. Kolivan taught him well.

Keith is the Aragon of this tale. Easy on the eyes, skilled with a blade. Loves fiercely and fights with an untarnished oath on his sleeve. It's honourable and heroic in a way that isn't egoistic at all. From another era entirely, something that cannot be recreated or replicated. It could be lost to time entirely, and Keith would let himself go down with it. Because he’s never cared about being remembered, being worshipped.

Keith just wants to belong somewhere. But that somewhere can never be a place, never one single thing that requires him to stay put. No, Matt soon realised after meeting Keith that yearning is to belong to a group of people.

“All clear,” Keith hisses. “Don’t engage. Let’s get in, grab the stuff and get out.”

As expected, it’s a simple mission. The quintessence is guarded, but the patrols are easy to dupe once the pattern of their configuration is figured out. Matt calculates their movements, navigating them successfully through the maze of corridors.

“Nice work,” Keith parts with, patting Matt on the shoulder before pursuing their target.

It’s incredible how much receiving praise from Keith feels like being awarded the gold star award in a class project. His words matter, he chooses them with such care. So every compliment, every encouragement is sincere in nature and it shows. It’s personalised in an intricate way.

The mission runs smoothly, almost too good to be true. Matt doesn’t want to jinx it, but soon discovers on their retreat maybe it is. As they head back, a doorway catches his eye, with similar markings on as the one where they had taken the quintessence samples from. It’s not exactly the same, and that’s what causes the Holt to come to a halt.

“Keith, wait. We should check this out,” This isn’t stranger things, but strange things could indeed be going down here. “I think it could-”

“-We don’t have time, move out!” Keith grounds out hard and sharp.

Akkim and Sorang are already ahead, making their way to the ship. Behind them is the familiar footsteps of guards, but they could definitely take them together if it came to that. If because it’s not a risk yet, not when this could be important. Reasoning with Keith on this is proving impossible. For a moment, caught in this insatiable curiosity which runs in the family, Matt is foolish enough to think he has a chance of coming out on top here.

“Keith, you saw the symbols. Why have another storage room if it was the same quintessence?”

Teeth grit, Keith casts his gaze down. He’s angry about something, isn’t sure how to articulate it. “I don’t know.”

“Then shouldn’t we stay a little longer, figure this one out?” Matt implores. “Or at least get more evidence to take back to-”

“No,” Keith says, unwavering. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Matt frowns. They’re literally right here, nobody is implicated.

“But-”

That’s the catalyst. Spinning on his heel, the tension in Keith snaps.

“I’m leading this mission!” he yells, eyes blazing furiously. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Matt swears his pupils flicker. The change in disposition is startling, has Matt’s words withering into oblivion. Against his will, he finds himself flinching at the force of it all. Keith blinks hard, takes a ragged breath. When his eyes open again, he looks upset. He’s trembling. Oh.

“Move out.”

Oh no.

They make their way to the ship with just enough time to leave before the Galra start firing on them. Matt hangs at the back of the ship, unsure what to say. His stomach churns, a sickening sense of the past repeating itself in the worst of ways. Keith is quiet, in a way that is unnatural for him. Rather than sinking into the quiet, belonging with it, Keith sticks out like a knife. The entire atmosphere is uncomfortable. Matt can’t see his face, but catches the tension in those shoulders. It’s as if he doesn’t trust himself to talk, is deeply ashamed of something. Akkim patches through to Kolivan, reports the mission status.

The rest of the ride back is silent.

Matt replays their heated dispute over and over in his head, can’t help but feel he might have messed up big time. Again.

\--

When they land, Keith makes haste down the corridor with the quintessence samples. Akkim is close by his side. It may not be an intentional cold shoulder, but god Matt can feel the blizzard freezing him over. A hand clasps his shoulder, and Matt stifles a yelp. It’s Sorang.

“Something happened,” she observes.

“No, no, no,” Matt holds a hand up, forcing a smile. “We’re fine.”

“I heard through our communications,” Sorang leaves no room for evasion. “You wanted to stay. Keith wanted to go. You are wondering why he was so upset.”

Stunned, Matt nods. In hindsight, he can see they probably didn’t have enough time to investigate. But it doesn’t explain the biting frustration in Keith’s voice, mixed with raw sheer panic. He’d lost himself for a moment, and he’s certainly not forgiving himself for it either.

“Do you want to know? It’s because-”

“No.” Matt shakes his head quickly. He’s accidentally overstepped before and this isn’t about not wanting to go in quarantine again, it’s about respecting that. No more breaches of privacy. There’s nothing Matt wants less than being on Keith’s bad side or destroying the trust they’ve been building. Sometimes he’s just a chronic smusher of toes.

“If he wants to tell me, he will.”

Sorang looks pleasantly surprised at that.

“You act like a real true friend,” she muses, nudging him.

The force is enough to push Matt backwards off the ship.

\--

As Matt makes his way towards quarantine, he doesn’t expect to see someone waiting for him. But at the first door, Keith is leaning against the wall arms folded. He seems troubled, plagued by his own thoughts. His head is hanging low, lips pursed tight. The sound of footsteps has him looking up, but only for a brief second.

“Hey.” The rasp is packed into his voice, indicating strain.

“Hey.” Matt can’t believe it. They can’t be here again, they just can’t. “Well done on the mission.”

“Thanks. You too.” Pause. “I’m… sorry about earlier. Just - we couldn’t keep going. We already had what we came for. We were running out of time.”

“I get it, Keith. I should be the one apologising, I didn’t listen to you. Put me back in quarantine, it’s fine.” Matt is prepared to whatever he can to make this right. Quoting songs for comedic effect seems out of place this time round, though. “I’ll put myself in there.”

“We were running out of time...” The response is distant, as if Keith isn’t really paying attention to what Matt’s saying. Between the words is something intangible, too close to dare name. Keith already said that, but now the words have more potency than before. There’s a hollow note to his voice, which is unfamiliar - the voice of someone haunted. “His name was Regris.”

Ah. There it is. The notes of grief are clear, this is something Keith has held tight to his chest for some time.

“We were on a mission before Naxzela. He didn’t make it back with us.”

“Keith… “ Matt can only begin to imagine the circumstances, wonders whether this mission reminded Keith of losing a comrade. “That’s not your fault.”

“I know that.” Well that’s a mild comfort. “But it - staying was my idea. Kolivan already suspected something was wrong but I insisted we went to check it out.”

Kolivan was there. Oh god. Matt sees the parallels in the situation immediately, dread rising through him. Realisation hits hard: Keith wasn’t angry earlier, he was panicking and eclipsed by the fear of watching another person die.

“There was a bomb. Regris tried to get the information I - I called out to him but he wouldn’t listen. There just- there wasn’t enough time to stay. He chose to stay. But I was the one who made that possible.”

Thank god Kolivan had been there. Already, the image of Keith diving forwards to his own death is too jarringly realistic to push away. He doesn’t need to ask to know it’s true. The way Keith talks of Regris makes it clear: he did everything in his power to leave with Regris or die with him. Matt takes a deep breath, searches Keith’s eyes slowly. He knows Keith would do the same for him without question, that’s just the kind of person he is. It doesn’t make things better at all.

“That doesn’t make you responsible.”

The quiet says too much. Keith bites his lip, eyes cast to the side. “Not entirely.”

“Keith-“

“It’s not my fault.” He no longer sounds convinced, head bowed. “But my choice played a part in the outcome.”

There is so much more here than Matt expected. Guilt is a difficult, slippery kind of demon. It’s good at evasion, waltzing out then waltzing back in to pack a punch, but it’s even better at hiding. It slips between bones and grinds them down enough to bruise, leaving an ache than can never be eased. It nestles behind eyes, darkens the skies and makes a home there when people aren’t looking. Guilt is something you can’t be forgiven for by others, not completely no matter how many assurances are given, you have to forgive yourself. You have to purge it from your own soul and lay it to rest with your own hands.

Keith is capable of many things, this isn’t one of them. He’s selfless, in a way that leans precariously close to being loveless with his own being. Matt’s seen his brilliance blazing, and he’s also seen the ashes scattered in the aftermath.

“You know I’ll follow you anywhere, right?”

There’s a rough, hitched breath from beside him at that. And despite it being Keith sucking the air in, Matt still feels the impact in his lungs. For a moment, they linger in a stasis. Then Keith steps forward. Rolling his eyes, he nudges Matt with his shoulder. It’s like a boulder smashing into his side, honestly. Keith is deceptively strong, he should wear a warning label for it alongside other things about him that almost give Matt a heart attack (like his extremely good taste in classic films).   

“I will follow you, follow you wherever you may go.” It doesn’t work as well in second person but Matt is resolved to try it out. “There isn’t an ocean too deep, a mountain so high it can keep-”

“Stop that.”

“I mean it though.” Spontaneous karaoke aside, Matt does and he wants Keith to know that and understand it. “You led the team well. They trust you, we all did and it showed. You’re doing great, Keith.”

“Try telling the paladins that,” he murmurs under his breath, bitter in a way that feels too raw to ignore. It’s the wording especially that alerts Matt to how strange this is. The shift in tone is almost too much emotional whiplash to bear.

“You’re still a paladin, Keith.”

“Am I?” Keith asks, and it’s sharper than he intends it to be. Worse, the question isn’t rhetorical. Keith doesn’t seem to know that yes, he really is. Team Voltron have so much more talking to do than Matt even realised. This is beyond his hands now. Maybe he needs to lock them all in quarantine. If only they had the time for that… but fighting an intergalactic war kind of means interpersonal issues seldom get truly resolved. They’re left to brew, long enough for every tea lover to pass out in shock.

“You are to me.” He has Keith’s attention, and Matt takes his chances. “You’re everything a paladin should be and more. I’m honoured to call you my friend.” More like best-friend-to-be, Matt’s calling it. He’s patient, he will wait for the day because it will be amazing.

A shy smile touches Keith’s lips for a moment. “Me too.” His eyes go comically wide, pushing himself off the wall. “I mean about you. Not that I’m honoured about myself...”

“Yeah.” It’s strangled, barely makes it way out Matt’s mouth because this is the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Keith is so good, Matt’s heart is light and full of warmth for this person.

Clearing his throat, Keith gestures behind them.

“We should uh, probably get to-”

“Yeah.”

“To give Kolivan the-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt just can’t stop saying yeah with the same vigour as badly improvising the rap part in group karaoke.

“And debrief on the mission-”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Keith prods, lips curving up a fraction. That’s more like it, getting closer to what he deserves.

“Hell yeah.”

Yeah.

\--

As they arrive at quarantine, they’re greeted by a curious sight. The quarantine bay is empty, Kolivan stood with his hands behind his back almost expectantly. Matt squints, glancing between the room and the leader of the blades who looks significantly better than he did before. Beside him, Keith is equally as stunned.

“Kolivan…” he breathes, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I seem to have recovered swiftly."

Matt squints harder suspiciously, he is suspicious. The timing is too convenient, too sly for him to accept. Maybe something else has been going on here all along. And whilst it’s difficult to tell if there’s a small curve of Kolivan’s lips in the corner or if it’s simply imagination indulging him, Matt wants to believe. So he does. The ambiguity simply crafts Kolivan into more of an enigma. Its official - Kolivan has the best poker face in all of space. Perhaps he could teach Keith a thing or two on that front.

A small smile graces Keith’s lips, melting every heart across the universe. “That’s good.”  

“I hear it was a smooth operation.”

Oh thanks Kolivan for the incessant background music. Smooth operator Keith. Batman. Keith Possible. It’s too much god just pick one, or not. Keith is too powerful and Matt wonders just how many forms of Keith they really are out there in the universe waiting to be discovered. Step aside Ash Ketchum, time to catch ‘em all.

A glance over to Keith reveals he hasn’t found any humour in this whatsoever. The traces of a smile is lost to a more turbulent expression. There’s a tight pinch in his brow, a twist of his lips that threatens to turn sour at any moment. Before Keith can sabotage himself, make mountains out of something that needs no more definition, Matt steps forward. That’s quite enough of that, thank you very much. From this day on, Matt has pledged himself to be Keith’s personal cheerleader. Maybe Akkim and Sorang weren’t too far off with the mascot remark after all. He’d gladly take that position to keep Keith from being submerged in the shadows looming too close.

“It was, Kolivan. Keith was a great leader.”

Keith blinks, posture straightening almost defensively as if still expecting something to be said that will negate those words. It’s just not okay, really.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Kolivan says, and Matt seems to be the only person in the room who notices that Kolivan’s hand is awkwardly hanging halfway between Keith’s shoulder and his side, as if he isn’t sure what to do with it. Well. Maybe one day these two will get it, Matt can’t do all the hard work on his own. Not without Phil Collins at least, that’s hardly fair.

It’s here, glancing between the pair of them that Matt realises he got it wrong. Mufasa isn’t quite right anymore. His perspective has changed, and he thinks Kolivan deserves to keep his nerd status.  

“You're more like Gandalf.”

Kolivan turns from Keith, expression errily unreadable. “Is that a... nerd thing?”

Oh, it sure is.

“Definitely,” Keith remarks, but he doesn’t look exasperated. In fact, there’s a slight rasp in his voice that cannot be attributed to anything but stifled laughter. Finally, a good rasp that isn’t heartbreaking.

“Thank you, Matt. Then, I accept the title.”

Mission successful, Matt’s epic space Lord Of The Rings - no, Lord Of The Star Trek - fancast is a go. It’s rudely interrupted by an incoming call, that Kolivan promptly accepts. The screen flickers to life, revealing the castle of lions. There’s one person in the frame, standing a few paces back.

“Shiro?”

God, Keith says that name with such reverence always. It’s never not earth-shattering, never not packed with a thousand more unspoken words.

“Shiro. Is everything alright?” Kolivan clasps his hands behind his back, awaiting more information. It shouldn’t be so endearing, but Keith quickly mirrors his stance.

“For the most part, yes,” Shiro admits. “As you know, Lotor is now aboard the castle of lions.”

“Whilst I believed that to be the case, the blade of Marmora had not been made aware.”

Wow. Matt searches the room desperately, but he just can’t find anything to apply to that scalding hot burn. Sizzle, sizzle, Kolivan is throwing down and it’s a privilege to watch. Shiro balks before regaining some composure. It’s an impressive recovery.

“With all due respect Kolivan, contacting our allies was less of a priority than securing the heir to the Galra Throne.”

“I trust this call means you have achieved that successfully.”  

“We have. But we wanted to make a request…”

Scratching the back of his neck, Shiro averts his gaze. And that is very concerning. Matt is no fool, he knows exactly what that means. That’s the kind of gesture Shiro pulls when he’s trying to ask for something he thinks is unreasonable but he’s going to ask anyway and he’s going to be disgustingly polite about it. Just like when he asked the chef in the garrison cafeteria for leftovers to take back to his dorm, or that time when he thought he might be able to magically stay out after curfew as a cadet to sneak in extra practice in the simulator.

There is no way this is happening right now.

“Lotor is unpredictable, and we’re not too sure how safe it is to keep him aboard the castle. In light of recent events, we were wondering-”

It’s happening _. Oh god._

“No,” Matt says because not even the defenders of the universe can make him utter the word quarantine in this situation. No way. “Don’t make me say it, please.”

He’s met with silence. Confusion is on most of the faces staring back at him. Keith holds a hand to the bridge of his nose, squeezing hard as if attempting to erase this from his memory. Kolivan stares at Matt blankly, which somehow makes this feel like the final boss battle whereby winning means to rescue his dignity.

“Actually,” Allura steps forward to stand next to Shiro, breaking the ice with enviable grace and poise. “What we’re meaning to ask is whether Keith may join our discussions with Lotor, and how to proceed, in person. It is proving to be a difficult task.”

Maybe it’s the connection, but her voice begins to waver the more she speaks. Keith sucks in a sharp breath, louder than he probably intended to if the unguarded expression on his face is anything to go by. The walls aren’t down completely, but they’re fractured. These words are important ones. Given their recent talk outside the Quarantine bay, the timing could not be better. Matt just hopes the paladins get this right and stick to a script that makes the cut. It’s about time.

“You are as much a paladin as you are a blade, I am truly sorry we had not made that as transparent as we assumed it already was. Whilst we’re proud of your work, we have also become aware that-… that...” Tucking a strand of hair behind her air, Allura clears her throat. It doesn’t seem to help get out the words that are stuck there. Thankfully, Shiro takes initiative.

“You’re still part of the team, Keith,” he says in a way that could probably coax a wild bear into submission. That’s what’s so weird about it  - this is an unsettling analogy jarringly different to what is expected. Keith isn’t a bear and he doesn’t need coaxing into submission, he just needs encouragement and kindness. Shiro should know that. There’s more here to unpack, only now isn’t the time to do it.

Something else is going here and it’s important. Groundbreaking, maybe, if executed well. Team Voltron have clearly taken some things on board since Matt last spoke with them. This is an olive branch.

“We could really use your help on this one.”  

Keith lifts his head, eyes blazing with refuelled determination. “I’m on my way.”

Allura discusses the preparations of opening a wormhole for him, and with that the call ends. Keith looks to Kolivan, unsure of himself for just a moment. But he’s not asking for permission to go, only for some kind of mutual understanding. No words are exchanged, none are needed. Matt can hear the conversation loud enough from here. He’ll be coming back to the blades after the talks are over, Keith needs to make sure Kolivan knows that. Kolivan is proud of Keith, quite possibly orchestrated his sickness as a guise for their mission. But he won’t say any of that, and Matt can’t prove the last part. But he knows Kolivan holds a desire to nurture and cultivate the potential inside of Keith, even if Keith hasn’t caught on just yet.

As expected, Kolivan simply utters a few parting words. “Keep me informed of your status. I expect your return within two quintents.”

“Well,” Matt stretches out, ready to board his ship and no longer be subjected to watching these two run round in communication circles with each other. “I should probably get back to the rebels.”

“Let’s go,” Keith cocks his head toward the door.

They start walking, and Matt can almost hear the dramatic string ostinato. This could be the end credits to their adventures. And whilst war doesn’t wait around for people or accommodate to their lives, he wishes it would for just a while longer.

“Is it weird I’m going to miss this?” Matt blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Miss what?”

There is no way Keith can be that oblivious. He’s far too observant, in the way people underestimate. If Keith is going to play that game, Matt will play along whilst they have the time for it.

“Quarantine.”

Keith laughs at that, eyes crinkling in the corners. It’s enough incentive for Matt to face the music and be brave.

“Most of all I think I’ll miss this,” he gestures between them. _I’ll miss you._

Keith’s smile is so open, so friendly and fond in ways Matt didn’t even know he could conjure from his presence alone. It’s a good feeling. Simply the best, better than all the rest.

“Well you know. You can always… call me, beep me. If you wanna reach me.”

“Excuse me?” Matt spins on his heel, trying to process all Keith has said because this is the most absurd most brilliant thing he’s ever said.

“In danger or trouble-“

“Oh my god,” Matt whispers in disbelief. It’s a crime he has nothing besides himself to document this incredible and iconic moment, the punishment is being the sole organism in the universe to witness this. Keith. Quoting Kim Possible which means he knew - all this time he knew exactly what he’d been doing. No. Matt should know better than to underestimate Keith. Yet here he is, still doubting him. Now he’s suffering for it.

“I’m there on the double.”

That’s. Enough... It’s just enough. Holding a hand out, Matt stares Keith down. Keith who remains wonderfully composed. Somehow despite being a terrible liar he has the best poker face in a handful of very specific scenarios, this is absolutely one. What kind of conspiracy is the blade of marmora hiding here, that’s exactly what Matt wants to know.

“Why are you doing this, Keith?” Matt needs answers, starting with this one.

He can’t live this life anymore. One thing he has come to learn from experience is that Keith can be sly and coy, more than expected once he’s comfortable. It’s lovely, and also embarrassing because most times it happens the person being played is Matt. Understandably, he is working off his debt to Keith in a very forgiving way considering his recent blunders - but that changes nothing. Keith still cannot be trusted making jokes or fooling around. Proceed with caution. The question is a mistake, Matt played with fire once and it landed him nowhere good. Yet here he is again, stoking the flames.

Lips twitching, Keith leans forwards. Matt almost misses the gleam in those eyes that conjures Kenny Loggins and his raspy vocals to the scene. Yes. This is definitely the Danger Zone.

“Because,” Keith keeps his voice low. God here it comes. “Nobody will ever believe you.”

Pulling back, Keith schools his expression and nudges shoulders with Matt before leading Matt down to his ship. Those words are the pinnacle of modern day humour. That was definitely a meme and a joke combined. Rest in peace Matthew Holt.

He dies here today on this day in this day, because Keith is a comedic genius.

\--

“Hey, Keith. You’ll be okay, won’t you?” Matt asks when they’re both at the ships, because one joke does not automatically make everything okay.

Keith’s expression softens, head tilting in quiet consideration at the question. He hears exactly what Matt is saying, what lies between those words. Yet the silence isn’t heavy, which unexpected. Even with the echoes of Naxzela barrelling down against them, something else rises up from the ashes of an honourable and agonising self-destruction. It’s a smile, the best smile Matt thinks he has and ever will see. Despite it being small and almost tentative, it’s bright enough to reignite a thousand dying suns. This smile... Matt wants to protect it, he wants to see it grow up healthy, tell all his friends and neighbours about it. Yes to all. Strongly agree - every single time.

“Yeah,” Keith says, still wearing that smile.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, because he needs to check something and if Keith is one thing then he is a chamber of secrets. But also he is a goblet of fire, which is proof he is actually many things. Moving on, mostly the thing that Matt needs to check is whether he can form words in the presence of that dazzling smile from his future-best-friend but current found-friend.

With an eye roll, Keith leans against the edge of the ship. That iconic eyebrow quirk happens, and Matt isn’t even bothered anymore that Keith might be making fun of him a little when the smile turns into a grin. It’s worth it for this moment. “Yeah?”

It’ll be okay, it really will.

“Hell yeah.”  

Yeah.


End file.
